Mother, Daughter, Sister, Lover
by Keitorin Asthore
Summary: In all of Hao's lives, there is one soul he has always encountered, a soul just as lost and restless as his. Oneshot. COMPLETE.


Disclaimer: Shaman King belongs to Hiroyuki Takei, not me.

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**ASANOHA**

"Asaha," she called. "Stay with me."

He ran to her side, flinging his small arms around her legs. She smiled, stroking her long slender fingers against the top of his head.

"Will you carry this?" she said. He held out his arms for the basket of vegetables. She smiled and lifted the bucket of water.

He knew his mother was beautiful. Even though he was only six, he could see the way the other villagers stared at her. It was probably her hair. Her hair was very long, and the same color as ripened wheat in summer sunshine. No one else had golden hair like her. He petted the silky strands gently. Yes, he was proud of his pretty mother.

"Asaha, hold my hand, please," his mother said.

He slipped his small chubby fingers into her palm. Asanoha walked slowly through the village, her slim bare feet sending puffs of dust into the air. He trotted along beside her. "Kaa'san?" he said.

"Yes, dear," she said, her voice soft and melodious.

"When is Tou'san coming back?" he asked.

Her delicate fingers tightened around his little hand. "Tou'san isn't coming back, Asaha-chan," she said. "Remember?"

He paused. "Oh," he said.

"Don't be sad, Asaha," she reassured him. "Your mama is still here."

He hugged her arm. "Will you be here forever?" he asked her.

"As long as I can," she promised.

She tapped the door to their little home and it swung open. He scooted inside and dumped the basket of vegetables on the table. "Are we having dinner soon?" he asked eagerly.

"Of course," she said. She bent towards him; he kissed her on the cheek. "Now go play outside, all right?"

"All right," he echoed, and he bounced away.

The late afternoon sunlight still shone on the little yard around the house. Asaha plunked down in the grass, flopped backwards, and stared into the sunny sky.

He still didn't know why Tou'san was gone. Then again, he hadn't been there very often in the past few months. He had been gone more and more often, and Kaa'san had explained that he was looking for work. But then he didn't come back.

Kaa'san didn't cry about it, though. Kaa'san never cried. She had been very sad for a long time, though. Not once did she say anything about it, but he could tell she was unhappy. Her temper had been shorter than usual too- she had slapped him on the cheek for being impertinent when he really hadn't been- but she had hugged him very tightly afterwards, as if she wanted to apologize but simply couldn't find the words.

Asaha sat up and twisted around to peer through the window. He could see his mother's silhouette as she made dinner; he could even hear her soft voice murmuring. Sometimes he wondered why the other villagers stared at his mother when she spoke. But he understood. She was just talking to the spirits around her.

He was always able to see the spirits. His mother talked them often, but they still frightened him a little bit. He kept his distance, preferring to let her chat with them and figure out their problems. Sometimes he wondered if it hurt his mother's feelings that he refused to share her world. But she never spoke of it.

The tall grass in front of the little house rustled. Asaha crawled forward, squinting in the dusk. Bright torches licked against the dark lavender sky, and a harsh murmur of rough voices made him feel strangely unsettled.

Asaha scrambled to his feet and ran for the back door of the house. His mother stood with her back pressed against the table, staring at the door. But her brown eyes, usually so gentle and warm, were distant and faded, as if she could see some far-off sight that he couldn't even imagine. "Kaa'san?" he whispered.

She blinked and looked down at him. "Asaha," she whispered. She knelt down and pulled him into her embrace. He locked his arms around her neck, burying his face in her long, soft hair.

"Kaa'san, what's happening?" he asked.

She stroked his hair away from his face. "Asaha, I told you to go out and play," she said.

"But Kaa'san-"

"Go outside," she interrupted. "Go…go and hide in the grass. Go far away, Asaha-chan."

"But, Kaa'san," he pleaded. "You promised…you promised you would stay with me!"

She cupped his cheeks in her hand. "I promised I would stay as long as I could," she said. She touched her lips lightly to his. "I love you, Asaha-chan."

It was the last thing she ever said to him.

**ANHURA**

"Someone must've died."

The high plaintive sigh of wooden flutes drifted on the wind. The keening of the tribe's women echoed around it, weaving together a heartbreaking melody.

"People are dying all around you," Hao grunted. "One more makes no difference."

The fight was difficult, but not nearly as difficult as he had imagined it. The strength his second rebirth had granted him helped him immensely. The power coursing through him was delicious, intoxicating. He had no idea that this sort of thing was possible. And once he was granted the Great Spirit, he would never want again.

At the completion of the fight, he felt no exhaustion nor remorse for the incapacitated bodies left in the ring. This was necessary, after all. A necessary step to reach his goal.

The ringing sounds of the funeral flutes buzzed in his ears like wasps. He frowned as he strode back to the village. The endless rites were getting obnoxious. Of course people were dying. It was the shaman fight. Death was dealt with every day in the village.

A cluster of women huddled around the entrance of his tent. His steps slowed as their wailing pierced his ears. One of the women broke free as he came closer.

"Hao," she said hoarsely. She pointed at him, wild-eyed, her dark hair flowing around her face. The sudden wave of grief that hit him made his heart ache.

"What's wrong, Kiya?" he asked, but he already knew.

His wife faced him, her thin face grim in anguish. "She's dead," she said.

Hao pushed past the throng of wailing women, bursting into the tent, and halted. His youngest child lay on a pallet in the center of the room, her usually rosy cheeks white. Cautiously he drew nearer, as if she was only sleeping and he would rouse her if he was too loud.

She was only six years old, and small for her age. While the other children of the village shrieked with laughter while they ran and played games, she had been content to sit by her parents, playing quietly. He had found her sweet and innocent, a single pure moment of his life in a world lost.

Hao touched his fingers lightly against her cold forehead, stroking an errant strand of hair away from her closed eyes. In life her hair had set her apart- she was golden-headed in a village full of brunets. Now her blonde hair draped around her thin little face like a lifeless curtain.

He heard his wife approach behind him. "How did it happen?" he asked.

Kiya crossed her arms, hugging herself as if she was cold. "A snakebite," she said shortly. "Three days ago. She died this morning."

Hao drew the blanket back from his daughter's small body. He could see the two black holes marking the entry wounds on her thin ankle. She had been in fierce pain, he realized. It had not been a quick and merciful death.

"Stand aside, boy, stand aside!"

He heard the others try to pull the boy away, but he knew better. "Why weren't you here?" he bellowed. "Why couldn't you have been here?"

He kept his back turned away, his hand resting on his daughter's cool fingers. "I had other things to attend to, my son" he said quietly.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kiya take their son by the arm. "Hiso, hold your tongue," she murmured.

He broke free of her. "If you had been here, my sister would not have died!" he shouted. "She went after you! Do you understand that? She went looking for you and got bitten! By the time she got back to the village it was too late. You killed her!"

Hao remained still. "You should not say such things," he said quietly.

"You killed Anhura!" Hiso screamed. "You killed my little sister!"

In one swift motion Hao lunged for his son, grabbing him by the wrist and twisting him down. He heard Kiya breathe sharply, but she was drowned out by the roaring of blood in his ears. "I told you not to say such things," he seethed. "Anhura's death was a tragic accident. Nothing more."

Hiso stared at the floor, the skin of his arm whitening as his father gripped it. "Anhura is dead because of you," he whispered. " I will never forget that. And neither will you."

Hao dropped his son's wrist, throwing him to the floor. He ignored the shock and hurt on his wife's face. Her feelings didn't matter. Instead, he bent over the little girl on the bed. Tenderly he touched his lips against her forehead.

In his heart, he knew he killed Anhura. Her blood was on his hands.

**ANNA**

He strolled through the bright, airy hallways of the hospital like he owned the place. No one stopped him. He disregarded the sounds of crying babies and the smells of bleach and talcum powder. They were unimportant to him.

The room he was looking for was at the end of the hall. The door was slightly cracked; he eased it open carefully. Early morning sunlight flooded the little white room. It was peaceful there, more peaceful than he thought it would be.

At first he thought she was sleeping. She rested against the big white pillows, her golden hair tied back at the nape of her neck. Her light blue dress slipped off one slender shoulder. A soft smile played on her lips as she cradled the white embroidered blanket in her arms. He approached her carefully, and she darted him a sharp look under her long eyelashes.

"Hao," she said slowly. "It's been a while."

He smiled. "You look like a madonna," he appraised.

She straightened a little, holding the small white bundle closer to her breast. "I look like I've been run over by a train," she said. "That's what three days of labor does."

"No, really," he said. "You look lovely." Hao touched her blonde hair lightly. "You're growing your hair out."

She touched the ends self-consciously. "He told me he likes it long," she said. She cleared her throat. "But you didn't come here to compliment me on my hair, did you?"

He smiled at her. "Sharp as ever," he said. She pulled the soft embroidered blanket back and he leaned over her shoulder.

"Seven pounds, three ounces," she whispered. "Twenty-one inches long. Completely healthy."

"Boy or girl?"

"Boy," she said.

The baby snuggled in his young mother's arms, his chocolate brown eyes gazing complacently at the faces above him. One tiny fist bobbed out of the confines of the warm blanket; she stroked one soft fingertip against his tiny knuckles.

"He's beautiful," Hao said. "He looks like you."

She ran her hand over the baby's head. "He's going to be blond," she said.

They fell silent, gazing at the baby. He gurgled softly; she rocked him gently. "You could have been mine, you know," Hao said. He gazed at her long golden hair. "You could have chosen me. You could have been a queen." He closed his hand on top of her soft small one. "Anna.."

She pulled her hand away and placed it on top of the baby's little chest. "I chose a long time ago," she said serenely. Hao gazed at her, trying to stifle the lost feelings bubbling up inside of him.

The door opened. "Anna, I got your some breakfast," Yoh said. The young father set the paper bag down on the side table and crossed to the bed. "How are you feeling? Did you get enough sleep?"

She touched his elbow and nodded towards Hao. "Oh," he said. Confused, Yoh glanced down at his young wife, who shrugged. He touched the top of his baby son's head in a protective gesture. "Hi, Hao."

"Congratulations on the baby," he said.

Yoh beamed with all the pride of a new father. "Isn't he cute?" he said. "He looks just like his mother." Anna prodded him lightly on the forearm.

"Does he have a name yet?" Hao asked.

"We decided to name him Hana," Yoh said.

"Hana Asakura," Hao mused. "It's a good name."

Yoh ran his thumb along the baby's round cheek. "Do you want to hold him?" he asked.

"Yoh, I don't know if-" Anna started to say, but she trailed off. Yoh lifted the baby out of her arms and held him out to his brother.

Hao took his nephew carefully, his arms mechanically cradling him. He remembered the first time Kiya placed Anhura in his arms, how his heart broke over her fragility and her perfect little face and the way her tiny fingers curled around his. He remembered how his mother would hold him when he was a child, her soft cool hands stroking his hair away from his face.

He glanced at Anna out of the corner of his eye. She leaned back against the pillow with her hands folded on her stomach. Yoh sat next to her on the edge of the bed, smiling down at her with admiration in his eyes. He rested his hand on her slender shoulder and squeezed it lightly. She wrapped her hands around his fingers. Her golden head leaned against the curve of his side. For the first time Hao could remember, Anna looked happy. It didn't matter if she was Asanoha, Anhura, or Anna. She was at peace.

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**Author's Notes:**

Where did this come from? I really don't know!

We know from the manga that Anna reminds Hao of his mother, and also that Hao was married and had children during his second life. At one point the theory was that Anna was the reincarnation of his mother, and I think this one-shot took off from there.

If anyone knows where I got the name Anhura, you are completely awesome. You are so awesome, in fact, that I will write a one-shot for you! Because seriously. The thing that the name "Anhura" comes from is amazing, and more people should know about it.

I've wanted to write about newborn baby Hana for a while, and this was fun. It's just hard to imagine that Yoh and Anna were only around fifteen or sixteen when he's born. But somehow it just seems right for the two of them.

Plus, Yoh's such a cute daddy.

In other news, I'm working on some more Shaman King stuff- in particular, two multichapters and a new oneshot. The new oneshot involves older Seyram and Redseb, and little Hana. The multichapter stories…well, you'll just have to see.


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